Can poetry save your silly old soul and do you like this rhyme I climb?

Skipping along with graceful ease
and wiping dirt off from her knees
Softly my foot steps on greenest lush lawn ...
as teardrops fall rapidly from a heart so well torn!

Grave keeper
Dirt sweeper
and little soul weeper ...

Collecting flowers and arranging them so ...
every small detail is perfect, you know!
And as the time drifts, my garden will grow ...
because this soul glows at the end of deaths row!

I'm building a shrine
and through angels eyes I shine
so when my time ends in rhyme ...
the pearly gates are open and I won't need to climb!

I'm not your average grave tender and that is for sure
but my kind mined nature keeps me returning once more
I will dig with my white shovel but you can call it a spade ...
feeling highly heavenly elevated by the display these hands made!

Watering and weeding
my soul I am feeding
and even whilst bleeding
my angels are never needing ...

Never forgotten and always fondly remembered ...
I will lay down beside them when mortality is surrendered!
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And if this poem is not good enough ...
all I can say is ... it's all just too tough!
@Lovechild ... I love you! ... and thanks for answering my quest.
God bless your little Angel and we wish you all the very best!!!
@Lapiz ...Hello and Halo ... I'm off to the cemetery now to fix the flowers!
Thanks for your comment darling ...